The Times settles Nightjack claim for £42,500 plus costs

Why there should now be a "Nightjack" test for proposals for press regulation.

The New Statesman can reveal that the Times has settled the civil claim brought by "Nightjack" blogger Richard Horton for £42,500 plus legal costs. 

Horton brought his civil claim for breach of confidentiality, misuse of private information and deceit after it emerged that his identity had not been uncovered by some brilliant piece of detective work by a staff journalist, as was maintained by the newspaper at the time, but had been established instead by unauthorised access to the blogger's email account.

There will now be a statement in open court by the Times before the end of this month.

As there is now a criminal investigation related to this matter - a journalist has been been arrested and a former in-house lawyer has been interviewed under caution - not a great deal more can be said about the circumstances of the unauthorised access.  It is a matter entirely  for the criminal courts to determine whether there is any criminal liability arising - a settlement of a civil claim does not and should not prejudice any criminal investigation.  Certainly nothing in this post should be taken to suggest any criminal liability of any person or entity connected with the case.

And given the criminal investigation, there is little which those involved can currently say about this particular case.  Horton's lawyer Mark Lewis tells me only that whilst he is delighted that his client has won substantial compensation, nothing can put Horton back in the position that his identity was secret. 

And Horton says, "I am happy to have settled with the Times and I can now put that incident behind me and get on with my life".

 

A "Nightjack test" for press regulation?

However, there is perhaps a wider issue about the case apart from the now settled civil claim and the current criminal investigation. 

The Nightjack case raises a general point relevant to the debate on press regulation which will follow publication of the recommnedations of the Leveson Inquiry.

Quite simply, without the Leveson Inquiry's effective use of statutory powers, the Nightjack incident would never have come to light.  It is thereby a perfect example of what remains hidden with "self-regulation", still the the preferred model of many in the newspaper industry.

Here it is important to note that the story only emerged when the New Statesman analysed witness statements submitted by various figures from News International in response to formal (and legally backed) requests for evidence (the full account is set out here). 

Even then, News International was initially reluctant to give a full account, and it was only when both the editor and the former legal manager of the Times were summoned to give oral evidence to the Leveson Inquiry on the incident that the fuller picture emerged of what had actually happened.

As Prof Brian Cathcart, director of Hacked Off, told me earlier today:

The Nightjack affair is a clear case of a newspaper behaving unjustly and  it would never have come to light but for the scrutiny of the Leveson Inquiry, a body with real legal clout.

No voluntary, self-regulatory regime would ever have unearthed the facts.

This is further proof that we need an effective press regulator that has teeth and is genuinely independent the press industry as well as of government.

Tom Watson MP agrees:

I hope the Prime Minister and other members of the cabinet now realise that without the statutory powers of the Leveson Inquiry none of this whole sorry saga involving Times Newspapers and News International would ever have seen the light of day.

One test - which perhaps should be called the "Nightjack test" - of any non-statutory proposals for press regulation will be how an envisaged regulator can obtain relevant documentary and witness evidence from an unwilling news title. 

Would some non-statutory regulator really be able to obtain information from a title akin to that which the Leveson Inquiry was able to prise from News International in respect of the Nightjack incident?

For many it is difficult to see how any contractual or voluntary basis for press regulation could pass this important "Nightjack test" - it would merely (again) be regulation at the fiat of the regulated.

And unless any post-Leveson press regime can pass such a "Nightjack test" then the old pre-Leveson abuses could well continue.

 

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman

 

POSTSCRIPT

Richard Horton has now made the following comment below the line:

None of the above would have happened without the patient, detailed forensic dissection of the facts by David Allen Green at the New Statesman. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted from my life and after 3 years of not writing anything worth a damn, I am back writing for pleasure again. Leveson was undoubtedly the lever but without David's work at the fulcrum, I would still be sat here 3 years later strongly suspecting wrongdoing but entirely without evidence.

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman and author of the Jack of Kent blog.

His legal journalism has included popularising the Simon Singh libel case and discrediting the Julian Assange myths about his extradition case.  His uncovering of the Nightjack email hack by the Times was described as "masterly analysis" by Lord Justice Leveson.

David is also a solicitor and was successful in the "Twitterjoketrial" appeal at the High Court.

(Nothing on this blog constitutes legal advice.)

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The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era